


M, as in Mirror

by Anonymous



Series: Seven Days a Week Series [1]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was what happened before the ATP Heritage launch activity in Dubai and revealed the reasons why Roger didn't wear a suit when he attended the ceremony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	M, as in Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I felt awkward about writing porn in Chinese, so I chose English instead, which turned out to be awkward and difficult. Not native speaker. Not beta'd. Mind horrible errors.

It was no secret that Roger cared about his public image. He did. Very much. Generally, he spent hours preparing for official activities, especially the important ones. He showered, paying attention to his hair, ensuring his locks were silky and smooth and shining, just like a living shampoo advertisement. Then it was time to choose what to wear. A shirt, a suit and a pair of pants would be perfect, simple but perfect. He had quite a few good choices. Oh, he never forgot to pick a pair of shoes that matched the clothes. Good taste was based on details, anyway. Fortunately, he didn't need to wear a headband on such occasions, which would otherwise cost him about twenty minutes.

Novak was obsessed with Roger in suit. It was a torture for him to just watch his boyfriend walk around and to do nothing. He watched Roger come out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist; watched him open the closet and select the suit that fit him the most; watched him stand in front of the full-length mirror, drop the towel to the floor (Woah, what a view! Novak actually whithled at that sight), bend down to put on an underwear (which outlined his tight ass), a skirt (which barely covered his ass, leaving Novak more space for imagination and attracting his attention to Roger’s long and powerful legs), bend down again to put on suit pants (Novak didn’t miss how beautifully strained the muscles of Roger’s back, ass and legs).

“Damn perfectionist.” Novak cursed, feeling unbearably hot even though Feburary was one of the coolest months in Dubai and he was lying in bed with only a boxer on. Boxer getting tight, he had to admit that patience was never what he was good at, so he decided to make the move. He got out of the bed and walked towards Roger before stopping just behind him, so close that he was sure Roger could feel the hot breathes on his neck.

“What are you doing?” Roger asked, raising one eybrow and staring at him through the mirror.

Novak didn’t answer, just leant forward slightly, wrapping his arms around Roger’s body to trap him in between, chest clinging to his back. He sniffed at Roger’s neck, taking in the fresh show gel smell mingled with something special, something just _Roger_ , sweet and tender. He pressed his nose to it and took deep breathes, trying to breath in as many molecules as possible, as if he could feel these tiny elements along with the smell of the Swiss fly through his nostril, enter into his respiratory system and finally fuse into his blood as well as every cell of his body. Roger’s skin was damp and soft, so Novak couldn’t help but rub his stubble against his neck, causing the older man to hum approvingly with every movement. But when Novak’s rubs turned to be nips, Roger warned him breathlessly, “Don’t leave marks.” Bossy, Novak thought, but he knew better than to leave journalists chances to discover their secret relationship, so he reluctantly complied, tearing himself away from Roger’s neck.

If he was totally honest with himself, Novak didn't want the others to see Roger in suit. He had to try to take it off while Roger tried to put it on. Roger looked so gorgeous in suit that everyone would fall in love with him, or again for those who had already been crazy for his elegance. Novak often felt a twinge of envy when he heard fans express their passion freely in public, shouting “Roger, I love you” or “Roger, marry me”. But now, Roger stood in front of him, in his arms. Roger was _his_. The Serb rested his chin on Roger’s left shoulder, looking at the reflection in the mirror, eyes locked with Roger’s. It was almost unreal to watch his own movements through a mirror. Novak unbuttoned the Swiss’ skirt, clothes falling aside and hooking around Roger’s upper arms, showing his muscular chest and belly. Contrast to Novak’s skinny shape, Roger had broad chest and shoulders, which was one of the reasons why suits fit him so much. The Serb’s forefinger slided along Roger’s collar bone before dropping south, finger through his chest hair, feeling the rise and fall of muscles caused by Roger’s suddenly quickened breathes, gradually down to the waistband of the suit pants. He palmed Roger through the fabric, already half hard from before, then slowly moved up and down, coaxing more beautiful sounds out. The older man might have left a wet spot on his boxer and the idea turned him on enormously. Never breaking eye contact, he unzipped the pants and drags the pants down with the boxer, content to feel the Swiss shudder at the sudden touch with cooler air. Roger looked amazing like _this_ , eyes half lidded, lips wet and parted, pink little nipples hardened, prick heavily hung between his legs, pants loosely around his ankles. Novak thanked himself for the brilliant idea, which left him a great view that he appreciated very much. Roger’s body was definitely beautiful, maybe not as well built as some hot action movie star, belly not so flat as he was at early twenties, but beautiful nonetheless, and vulnerably exposed, showing the side that only Novak could see instead of the Mr. PeRFect the arguably GOAT represented in public. The Serb had to draw the only reasonable conclusion that the God really loved Novak Djokovic.

“Press your hands against the mirror. It will be easier.” Novak whispered seductively. Roger’s eyes sligntly widened, then complied as what he was told, a little bit embarrassed, though. The mirror must be cold, as Roger had a moment of still before relaxing again, but he didn’t complain.

“Good boy.” Novak couldn’t resist the sudden urge to praise his sweet lover and Roger moaned at the words, prick hardening in his hand. He knew Roger secretly got excited when he was called like that despite their age difference, or just because of it.

One quick kiss on the shoulder, Novak went to grab a tube of lube and a condom from the drawer of bed stand and returned in no time, as if he could not stand hands off Roger for even one second. He opened the cap with a pop before squeezing a huge amout of lube onto fingers and sliding his hand to the cleft of Roger's ass, rubbing against the pukered hole in circles. Roger let out gasps at the feeling of cold liquid and eyebrows were brought into a frown. Usually, Novak prefered to prolong the process of preparation, massaging with teasing pressure and not entering as what Roger expected until his boyfriend couldn’t help moaning his eagerness. But not today. Not when he had been aroused and achingly hard for such a long time. Novak began with one finger, didn’t feel much resistance with the help of slick fluid. He pulled out the finger and returned adding another one, scissoring tentatively, observing carefully Roger’s reaction through the mirror all the time. He might be in a hurry and didn’t prepare his boyfriend as thoroughly as usual, but the last thing he wanted was that their sexual activities hurt Roger or caused actual discomfort to his moves. As soon as Roger relaxed enough, a third finger was joined. Novak moved his fingers in and out several times and then curled them to explore the most private part of his boyfriend, which made the Swiss groan at the back of throat and clench around the fingers inside him. Novak showered him with kisses behind his ears and along his shoulders, and his left hand caressed one side of his waist for reassurance. When he felt Roger was ready, Novak pulled outh the fingers, rolled on the condom and coated himself with a lot of lube. He placed one hand on Roger’s hips and the other took himself, aligning himself with the entrance before sliding in. He pushed past the tight ring of muscle and kept going, as gentlely and patiently as he could manage at the moment, until bottomed out and stilled for Roger to get used to the intrusion. Meanwhile, his hands were busy roaming all over Roger’s body, as though to memorize it inch by inch.

“You know, we seldom stay in an apartment instead of a hotel room. It’s a waste that I can’t hear you screaming my name.” Novak said with an evil grin.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Roger snorted.

“Well, I can give you a hint. Do you remember last time we were at your home you were totally fucked up and…”

“Shut up.” Roger snaped.

“I’m just telling the truth.” Novak grinded into him to emphasize his point. “Or I can put a gag in that pretty mouth since you don’t intend to use it.”

“Don’t be…silly.” Roger grits his teeth.

“I’m sure you will enjoy it.” Novak broke into a big smile.

“Arrogant bastard.”

“But you love me somehow.” Novak smirked. That was not even a question.

“Can’t you just shut up and move already.” Roger said harshly, trying to distract the younger man from the fact that the color on his face deepened.

Which he failed, but Novak stopped teasing him anyway since he had something more important to do. He put both hands on Roger’s hips, pulled out a little before thrusting back, keeping a relatively slow but steady rhythm and sliding deeper every time. Thanks to their familiarity in sex, Novak soon found the sweet spot and attacked it with every thrust. Roger’s breath was caught in his throat and he involuntarily made loud moans, but soon worried his bottom lip to suppress the whining sound. Novak couldn’t help making small chuckles. After all these years being together, his boyfriend still felt shy about intimacy and he tried to keep as calm as possible in sex, which Novak knew too well and thought it was one of the cutest things he had ever witnessed. However, he always chose not to fulfill his will. The fact was that Novak craved for Roger’s sexual sound at intimate moments, because he was the one who made the Swiss lose control. Roger was an aggressive attacker on court, quiet, self displined and old school, and Novak wanted everything opposite. He wanted to see the older man submissive, give in to the desire, lost in the lust and shout out his pleasure. He wanted to see him raw not only physically but emotionly as well.

He kissed Roger’s ear, nipping along the shell, then took the earlobe into mouth, tongue toying with it, covering it in saliva. At the same time, he wrapped left hand around to find one nipple and pinched quite hard. Caught off guard by the unexpectedly intensified stimulation, Roger cried out in half pain, half pleasure, which turned into broken sobs.

“That’s right, good boy.” Novak said gaspingly, hot breath ghosting over Roger’s skin.

Noticing Roger drop one hand down to his neglected member, Novak quickly patted his hand away and grabbed both wrists before bringing them back against the mirror.

“That’s my privilege. ” Novak warned. “Let me take care of you.”

He left one hand covering over Roger’s hands, slender fingers entwined, the other wrapping Roger’s prick, slippery with precome. Some even dripped down to the floor, which was obscene and hot. He smeared precome all over the shaft as lubricant, stoking synchronized with the rhythm of thrust. It seemed Roger was trapped in a dilemma, he arched into where they were connecting to get them closer while tried to thrust into the Serb’s hand to get more friction.

Still feeling something was missing, Novak kissed Roger’s temple, then moved to his jaw line. The Swiss instantly understood what he was looking for and craned his neck to meet Novak’s searching lips. The angle was awkward. They both knew it, but kept the awkward stance anyway. They engaged into a sweet and passionate kiss until they had to part for air.

Novak knew he wouldn’t last long. Not when the wet heat tightly wrapped around him after spending too much time watching and fantasying. Not when he and his love touched every part of their bodies possible. He felt the tell-tale sensation bubbling from his groin, his balls tightened, and knees weak like he just played a six hours match. Actually he considered anything longer than five minutes a victory.

Neither would the Swiss. Novak could tell from how Roger’s body tensed and shuddered to control himself. Novak sped up the pace. He pulled out until only the tip was inside and slammed back into Roger, pubic hair grinding against the soft skin of his arse. The slapping of skin on skin, mixed with heavy pants and moans, echoed in the room.

“Look at me. I want you to look at my face when you climax.” Novak coaxed lovingly.

Novak saw Roger open his eyes, slightly dialated. He looked into the brown orbs, finding lust and more importantly, deep affection. He could remember nothing but the man before him, his pace went erratic and frenzied, Roger’s cock throbbing in his hand. Suddenly, Roger made a high pitched sex noise and reached completion. He shot so hard that his come not only dirtied Novak’s hand and his own belly, but also produced white spots on the mirror and on the floor. His hole clenched on Novak, which sent him over the edge.

After the orgasm, they slided onto the floor, snuggling despite the sweat and sticky cum. They tried to calm themselves while exchanging pecks and small kisses like two lovebirds.

“Wow, that was…” Novak was the first to speak, but trailed off to look for an appropricate phrase. Absofuckinglutely incredible?

“Yeah, it was.” Roger agreed. He didn’t need to hear the entire sentence to know what his boyfriend wanted to express. They shared the same feelings.

It was not until ten minutes later that they were able to arrange enough force to take a shower. Unfortunately, there was not enough time for shower sex. The suit Roger had woren, which was the main cause for all these, had so many creases that it was certainly not an option now. He chose a deep blue shirt, a green pullover and a pair of blue jeans instead. It seemed that Novak was happy for his new choices and felt triumphant over success in persuading Roger to take off that damn suit, by using his own body, of course. What he didn’t know was that Roger enjoyed occasional childish possessiveness of his younger boyfriend. It had become one of the little secrets that he kept to himself. He didn't stop Novak when he got jealous, even encouraged him sometimes, which made him feel loved, cherished. He deliberately spent much time standing before the closet and showing off his body (but he would never admit it), hoping the Serb would make the move, which he did. He could always control the situation, no matter where he was, on court or off court. This was definitely his victory, or a win-win situation?

Before they left the house, Novak gave Roger a final kiss. He stared at Roger in contemplation, and then asked, “Have you been aware that you’re too handsome for your own good?”

“Of course I have.” Roger answered matter-of-factly, and they both bursted into laughter.

Hence, Roger was finally ready for the ATP Heritage program launch activity.

Fin


End file.
